


The Best Man

by chanderson



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Car Accidents, Crying, Drinking, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, Mild Sexual Content, Panic Attacks, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 20:10:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20233669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanderson/pseuds/chanderson
Summary: In the direct aftermath of Finn's death, Will doesn't know how he's going to move forward.





	The Best Man

**Author's Note:**

> Hi this is my first Glee fic! Just recently binged the whole show and am totally loving it. Will is my fave character, and I was interested in exploring his response to Finn's death. 
> 
> This will eventually feature more of the original Glee kids.

It happens on a completely normal day, a day without any signs of bad things to come. Emma and he are lying on the couch together watching the news, Rod Remington’s voice lulling him into that drowsy spot between asleep and awake. His head is in Emma’s lap and she’s pulling her fingers through his hair, scratching affectionately at his scalp.

Then his phone rings.

It makes him jolt in surprise, shocks him awake. He blinks and fumbles to tug the phone out of his pocket. It’s a call from Burt. Will frowns in confusion, an uncomfortable pit settling in his stomach. His eyes flicker to the cable box, where the time reads 10:07. Burt shouldn’t be calling this late. On the screen, police lights flash and though he’s only half listening, Rod’s words still register in his mind: _“We have some breaking news, Lima Police tell us they are investigating a multi-vehicle crash near the University of Lima campus. This happened around 8:00. Victims haven’t been identified at this time as police notify families—”_

“Will?” Burt’s voice wavers, breaks on the one word, and Will knows. He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Is it Finn?” he whispers. Emma reaches for him, and he flinches when she starts rubbing his back. Her eyes are wide, brows furrowed.

“I—yeah,” Burt says. “The police just called us. Carole and I wanted you to know.” Will flushes hot all over and his stomach turns. Sweat beads on his forehead, a single drop tracing the line of his temple.

“Thanks,” he manages to croak out. “I just, I saw it on the news.” His voice sounds far away, like he’s submerged under water. “I’m so sorry, Burt.”

“They told us he didn’t feel any pain. He was thrown from the car and broke his neck. Wasn’t wearing a fucking seatbelt.”

“Oh Finn,” Will manages to say, as his stomach drops and he feels vomit burning at the back of his throat. He shoots Emma a panicked look and shoves the phone at her before standing up and running to the kitchen — he doesn’t think he’ll make it to the bathroom.

He barely manages to lean over the kitchen sink before he vomits, the force of it doubling him over farther with a pained grunt. Emma gasps and hurries over to him, starts rubbing his back as he’s sick again.

“Will, sweetheart,” she says, voice tinged with panic, “lets go to the bathroom.”

Will groans and pulls away from her, wipes his mouth — slick with vomit and spit — on the back of his hand. He shuffles into the bathroom, drops down in front of the toilet and rests his head on the cool porcelain. The room is slowly spinning. His heartbeat is like a bass drum in his ear.

Finn loved to play the drums, was so good at them. Will should’ve highlighted his drumming more.

He’s sick again. It’s like his body is rejecting the news. This can’t be happening.

Later, after he feels empty — literally and figuratively — he sheds his sweat-soaked clothes and crawls into bed in just his boxers. Distantly, he can hear Emma scrubbing the sink clean and muttering worriedly to herself.

“Emma,” he calls out. The noises stop. Emma appears in the doorway, eyes glittering in the low light. She hesitates, rests one slender hand on the doorframe.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to clean the sink. I’ll be in soon.” Tear tracks shine on her cheeks. Will swallows, sits up a bit and motions for her.

“We’ll finish it tomorrow.” He takes a shaky breath. “Please come to bed. I need you.” The vulnerability in his voice is disconcerting. He has to pull it together. The kids will need him.

Emma seems to deflate and she nods, changes into her pajamas in silence.  “Are you feeling better?” she asks as she climbs into bed. Will shrugs, shifts closer so their foreheads are touching.

“I’m not going to puke again, but I wouldn’t say I’m feeling ‘better.’”

“It’s okay to be sad. If you need to cry, I’m here for you.”

“I’m fine. I don’t feel like crying.” His voice is hard, weary. Emma frowns and runs a hand down his bare side, making him shiver.

“Will, sweetheart—”

“I’m fine, Emma,” he cuts her off. “Really. I’m just tired.” Emma nods and prods his side.

“Ok, well, roll over then. I’ll hold you tonight.”

Will bites back the retort on the tip of his tongue, the automatic 'no, I’m ok,' because being held right now is exactly what he needs, so he rolls over and scoots into the curve of Emma’s body. Normally he’d ham it up a little and grind against Emma, just to get her to squeak and playfully smack his head, but his heart isn’t in it. It would be inappropriate when they’re both in mourning. When the carefully constructed life they’ve built together has just been irreparably shattered into a million tiny pieces.

“I love you Emma,” he whispers and shuts his eyes.

\---

He dreams about Finn. They’re in the choir room again, just like it used to be. Finn has that boyish smirk on his face, that devilish twinkle in his eye, and Will wants to hug him, wants to tell him that he loves him like a son. But Will’s rooted to the spot. Stuck. 

He gasps awake in a cold sweat, momentarily disoriented. Maybe last night didn’t happen. Except then he sees Emma knelt at the side of the bed with her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles are as white as a corpse’s.

“Emma?” he asks, voice still rough with sleep. “Are you praying?” he asks unnecessarily. She cracks an eye open and nods solemnly.

“For Finn’s family.”

“Praying isn’t going to bring him back.”

“I never said it was going to,” Emma says patiently, unprovoked. Will’s temper pricks. He wants to lash out and scream, because Finn Hudson is dead and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

“Sorry,” he says instead. There isn't any fight left in him. Emma shrugs and closes her eyes again, re-bows her head.

Maybe in the past Will would’ve joined her, but he wouldn’t know what to say right now, and he doubts God’s listening to him anyway. If He was, Finn would still be alive.

Will unsteadily climbs out of bed and gets ready in a daze, accidentally shampooing his hair twice as he gets lost in his thoughts. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to face the New Directions today. They’re Finn’s kids too. What the fuck is he supposed to say at a time like this?

He hasn’t had the courage to look at his phone yet, but he finally glances at it as he chugs some coffee and leaves his toast uneaten. He’s got texts from Shannon and Rachel and Kurt. He can’t bring himself to read them. Not yet.

“Will?”

He startles when Emma walks up behind him and massages his shoulders.

“Huh?”

“Aren’t you hungry?” She grabs a toothbrush and starts back on the sink, wrinkling her nose. His stomach turns at the memory of last night, and he shakes his head.

“Still queasy.” He stands up and brushes his shirt down. “I’m gonna head to school. See you later.”

He leaves his pack lunch sitting on the counter.

\---

The school is eerily quiet when Will arrives, and everything seems darker like a heavy fog has settled in. It’s disconcerting. He feels a pang when he sees the vigil already building along the lockers and stops a second to admire it. 

“Hey Will,” Shannon walks up and pats him on the shoulder before giving him a watery smile. He jumps in response, and her face falls to a frown as she gets a better look at him. “Will, you look terrible.”

“My best man just died.” Shannon winces and pulls him into a side hug.

“I know. I lost my quarterback.” Will nods and chokes out a funny-sounding, sad little laugh.

“I can’t believe it. I already miss him so much.”

A tear runs down Shannon’s cheek, dangles on her chin before making a dark spot on her polo.

“Me too, buddy.”

“It’s not fair,” Will whispers angrily, voice wavering for a second before he sucks in a sharp breath and clears his throat. “It isn’t fair,” he repeats, calmer this time.

“I know, but it’s what we’ve got to deal with. This is life.”

“Life fucking sucks,” Will says bitterly, scuffing his toe on the linoleum floor. Shannon barks out a surprised, humorless laugh.

“That it does, Will. That it does.”

“Have you thought about how you’re going to talk to your guys about it yet?” Will wearily runs a hand through his curls and sighs. “Because I have no idea what to say.”

“Just speak to them from your heart.” Shannon pats him on the back and squeezes his shoulder affectionately. “Let me know if there’s anything you need, alright? Anything at all.”

“Sure, thanks Shannon.” Will hikes his bag up on his shoulder and shuffles into his office. In the dark quiet, he takes a deep, shuddering breath and rubs his face. For the first time in a long time, Will is dreading going to Glee Club today.

\---

He stops by Emma’s office on his way to lunch and gives her a half-hearted smile. 

“Hey sweetheart just headed to the teacher’s lounge for lunch. You ready?”

Emma looks up and gives him that adorable worried look she gets sometimes, though it doesn’t have quite the same affect it usually does.

“Sure, but you forgot your lunch today. Luckily I grabbed it for you,” she says, almost accusatorially, but not quite. Will’s stomach churns with nausea at the thought of putting anything in it, and he gives her a sickly smile.

“Oh, thanks.” He takes the brown paper bag, crinkling it in his fist.

“Are you still feeling sick? You look pale.” Emma takes his hand and squeezes it. “I hope you aren’t coming down with something.”

“I’m fine.”

Except Will can’t stomach his lunch today. The chicken salad sandwich Emma carefully prepared for him nearly makes him gag as he unwraps it. Even the cookie looks unappetizing.

Emma pops a grape in her mouth and raises an eyebrow.

“Not hungry?”

“Not really.” It’s all Will can manage to say, because he has Glee next and he’s starting to feel panicky, like there isn’t enough air in the room.

Then Sue walks in and Will seriously thinks he’s going to vomit.

“Hey William, Esmerelda.”

Will doesn’t miss the warning look Emma shoots Sue. 

“Hey Sue.” Will conjures up a sad little smile before glancing back down at the table.

“I heard about Finn, poor sap. He really should’ve been wearing a seatbelt, but then again, I wouldn’t expect anything less from one of your Glee kids,” Sue says mockingly as she swings a chair around and straddles it.

Will immediately clenches his fist and pulls in a sharp breath through his nose.

“That’s enough, Sue,” he snaps.

“Oh I’m sorry, William, I forgot your only friends are children. This must be very hard for you.” Sue smirks and takes a sip of her protein shake, as self-satisfied as ever with a Cheshire grin stretched across her face. “Sorry Buttchin.”

Will barely registers what he's doing before he’s standing up and storming out of the teacher’s lounge. He needs some air, needs to breathe somewhere that doesn’t remind him of Finn. It’s suffocating inside the school.

As he breezes past the vigil, doing his best to ignore it before he totally loses his shit, he accidentally extinguishes some of the candles. But there’s no time to stop, because it feels like the walls are closing in on him and his vision is dimming and he _can’t fucking breathe._

He shoves the nearest exit door open and stumbles outside, nearly falling to the ground. The air is blissfully cool on his face, and the smell of fresh cut grass wafts from the baseball fields in the distance. It calms him if only a little bit.

Emma eventually finds him, and he lets her gather him in a hug, drape a wet paper towel over his neck, and rub his back in slow, soothing circles. He lets his eyes flicker closed and takes some deep, calming breaths.

When the bell rings he reminds himself to keep breathing. In and out, in and out. His kids need him. He has to be strong for them. It’s what Finn would’ve wanted.

\---

The choir room is dead silent when Will walks in. He’s five minutes late, because he’d sat at his desk paralyzed in fear before he was able to snap out of it and force his legs to work.

Some of the kids are crying. Marley has her head buried in Jake’s shoulder, and he’s slowly stroking her hair, his own eyes glassy.

“Um, hey guys,” Will says softly, and they all look at him expectantly. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, blinks hard.

“You ok Mr. Schue?” Ryder asks softly, and Will wants to tell him ‘no,’ but he just manages a tired smile and nods.

“Yeah,” Will sighs, sitting heavily in a chair. “I just don’t really know what to say.” He pauses and wipes his sweaty hands off on his jeans. “I miss Finn so much, and I know you guys do too. I honestly… I don’t know what to say, and I’ve been racking my brain all day trying to come up with something profound to tell you guys, but what do you say when someone you love so much dies?”

Marley whimpers, and Will startles, already moving toward her, when Jake gathers her in a hug and gives Will a small smile as if to say ‘it’s ok I’ve got this.’

“It’s ok, Mr. Schue,” Kitty says quietly. “We know you and Finn were close. We all love you so much.”

“I love you guys too, and so did Finn.” Will takes a shaky sigh. “He would’ve been an amazing teacher.”

“Do you mind if we just take some time today?” Unique asks. “It would be nice to share some memories of Finn.”

“Sure,” Will says softly. “That would be nice.”

“What’s your favorite memory?”

Will blinks, laughs a little nervously. 

“There are so many of them.” Will pauses. “But I would have to say after he came to me when he found out Quinn was pregnant… before he found out it wasn’t his baby.” Will chuckles a little at the memory of the drama. “It was the first time I’d ever felt like a — like a father. Finn came to me and told me everything and just started crying.” He smiles at the memory and clears his throat. “Finn was special. He taught me more about being a man than anyone else I’ve ever known.”

“That’s a nice memory, Mr. Schue,” Marley whispers, and she gives him a watery smile.

“Thanks Marley.”

He takes a second to look around the room, at the drum set Finn used to jump behind, at the seat Finn used to occupy in the front row, and Will has to close his eyes and center himself for a second.

_Please let this all be a joke, let Finn walk through that door right now and apologize for being late, apologize for this massive fucked up misunderstanding._

But Finn doesn’t walk through the door, and he never will.

Will swallows down the lump in his throat and gives his kids a reassuring smile.

\---

His history classes are a blur. He just goes through the motions, pops in a movie for the kids to watch. He doesn’t want to teach today, doesn’t even know if he can anymore. 

He stops by Emma’s office and they walk to their cars together. It seems like she's holding something back, like she wants to say something but isn’t. Will smiles tiredly and kisses her cheek before ducking into his car.

The drive home feels like it takes forever, and he finds no comfort in the radio. He has to keep changing the channel because there are so many songs that remind him of Finn. Finally he flips the radio off in disgust and sits alone in his thoughts.

He beats Emma home, and he knows he should start dinner or something but he doesn’t have it in him. Instead, he grabs a lowball glass out of the cabinet and pours himself a whiskey neat. It’s the expensive whiskey they usually only break out for special occasions like holidays, but the warmth that settles in his belly makes him feel a little better. He swallows the entire glass in a few harsh gulps and pours himself another couple of fingers, more than he’d normally drink. Without any food in his stomach it goes straight to his head, and he collapses on the couch a little lightheaded.

“Will?” he hears Emma moving through the apartment, dropping her keys in the bowl by the door and turning on the sink. When he doesn’t answer, she comes into the living room and frowns. "Do you want me to start dinner?” She eyes the now empty glass on the coffee table but doesn’t say anything. 

“Not really.” Will leverages himself off the couch and grabs the glass, slides past Emma to pour himself another. He can practically feel her disapproval.

“But you’re going to drink? Will, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. You’ll make yourself sick.”

“It’s fine,” Will says as the amber liquid splashes into his glass. He pours way too much, almost to the brim, and has to lean over and slurp some up. It burns the back of his throat and makes his eyes prick.

“Will,” Emma warns. “Please at least eat a sandwich or something. I’m worried about you.”

“M’fine, Em’s,” he mutters as he drains half the glass. “Just need to take the edge off a little.” He’s already a little drunk, which is just pathetic, and he knows Emma can tell as he ambles unsteadily back into the living room. Emma grumbles something under her breath and starts moving around the kitchen. The clang of pots makes his head hurt a little, and the smell of food — something with chicken — makes the whiskey slosh uncomfortably in his stomach. But he perseveres and finishes the rest of his drink. It nearly makes him gag; he really is more of a beer guy.

“Will, I’m making chicken Alfredo. I’m making you a plate,” Emma calls from the kitchen. “Just a small one.” She sticks her head through the door and raises an eyebrow. “You can have just a few bites.”

“I’m really not hungry,” he says, and he hates how slurred his voice already is. Emma cocks an eyebrow and frowns.

“Just something to take the edge off that hangover I’m sure you’re going to have.” She disappears back into the kitchen, and Will pushes himself up to follow her. She looks good like this, a little frumpled after a day of work, her hair hanging a little messily in her face.

“What do I get in return?” Will slurs, leaning against the doorjamb and raising an eyebrow. His emotions are completely fucked, because he shouldn’t be horny right now, but his cock is twitching in his jeans and he can’t really help it.

“Will,” Emma says sternly. “Not right now. You’re upset.”

“No I’m not, baby. I just want you. You look so good like this.” Will stumbles into the kitchen and presses up against Emma so she can feel him against her hip. “Please?” He leans down and kisses her ear, pulls her earlobe into his mouth and sucks on it for a few seconds.

“Will,” Emma says again, and pushes him away. “No.”

Will pouts and grinds a hand against his half-hard cock, gasping more for Emma than himself. He knows it turns her on.

“Please? I need this. I need you.” He takes her hand and places it over the seam of his jeans, thrusts a little into her palm.

“You’re sad, Will. No. Go drink some water and try to sober up.” She pulls her hand away and immediately starts scrubbing her hands in the sink, lathering them with soap. Will sighs and shrugs.

“Sorry. I’m gonna shower.”

“Dinner will be ready once you’re finished. Make sure you wash your hands when you’re finished.”

Will snorts and nods as he slowly makes his way to the bathroom. He strips out of his clothes and glances down at his cock, still half-hard and hanging heavily between his legs. He licks his hand and fists it, giving himself one experimental tug. The answering clench in his stomach just ends up making him nauseous, and he goes a little soft. He squeezes along his shaft for a few seconds, trying to harden himself back up, but he’s starting to seriously not feel well so he finally drops his cock and twists the shower on.

He sits on the floor and lets the water pound his back. It actually does sober him up some, clears a little of the fog, but does nothing to soothe his stomach. He’s only in there for a few minutes before his stomach starts doing that funny burning thing it does before he throws up.

“Fuck,” Will hisses as he shuts the shower off and hastily climbs out with one hand clapped over his mouth as he gags hard. He kneels in front of the toilet still soaking wet, a puddle forming on the ground. When he vomits, it burns all the way up and he gasps in pain.

“Will?!” Emma calls out, voice tinged with concern. He just moans in response and throws up again, coughing and spitting into the toilet. “Oh honey,” Emma sighs when she walks in. “Are you ok?”

“Fine,” Will sighs. “Just drank too much too fast.”

“I know sweetheart.” Emma grabs a towel and kneels beside him so she can start drying him off. “I’m worried about you, Will,” she whispers before leaning her forehead against his back and pressing a kiss to his right shoulder blade.

“I just miss him so much. I don’t know what to do.” Will takes a shaky breath and flushes the toilet. “He was my friend.” He turns to face Emma, sitting with his legs crossed.

“I know he was.” Emma has tears in her eyes as she smooths Will’s wet hair out of his face. “I know he was.”

“It sounds stupid, but I wish it could’ve been me,” Will says softly. “He had so much life left to live.”

Will doesn’t miss the little shudder of shock that goes through Emma when he says it. He can’t blame her, it sounds borderline suicidal, so he gives her a small smile and tries to move past it. “I’m gonna go ahead and get in bed. I feel gross.”

Emma blinks and seems to snap herself out of it, giving him distracted a smile.

“Sure honey. I’ll have my dinner and wrap you up a plate. You can take it for lunch tomorrow.”

“Thanks Em’s.” Will stands and brushes his teeth a couple times before giving Emma a small kiss at the corner of her mouth. He doubts he’ll want the pasta tomorrow, but he’ll humor her for now, if only because she looks so damn worried.

Before Will goes to sleep, he finally checks his texts. Rachel’s makes his eyes burn with unshed tears.

_Kurt just told me what happened. How are we supposed to move on without him?_

Will takes a shaky breath and types out his response.

_I have no idea, but we all have each other. I’m here for you._

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I hope everyone enjoyed! This is probably a little OOC, but I wanted Will to suffer a little. I don't have a beta so any mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


End file.
